“Yes, it is dear, thank you for pointing that out so
eloquently. I think the flames coming out of it clearly show it is indeed
broken.”

“But what are you going to do?

“Well, throw it in the garbage would be a good guess.”

“But can’t you try to fix it?”

He lit up a cigarette.

“The thing is, once the bread ignites, that’s pretty
much it, dear.”

“But…” she started. Yes, she did start that sentence,
that as many other sentences, with a piercing but that drove him over the edge.

In a motion he simply couldn’t remember later on when
the police asked him what had happened, the toaster went from the kitchen
counter to a somewhat undefined direction which coincidentally happened to be
where his wife was standing.

He could remember one thing though. He could remember
her eyes filled with surprise, her body attempting to stagger away and her
mouth letting out a horrified “But…”